“What do you do for the Bureau?” “Whatever they want me to do.” “So . . . say they told you to go set fire to the old lady’s apartment next door.” “I’d set fire to her apartment.” I swallowed, and the next question came out a little breathless. “Say they told you to kill me.” I met his gaze. Possessive blue flames. And something morally ambiguous. His hand came up to my throat and his thumb brushed across my pulse. Then, he lightly squeezed. “I’d have to decline.” The pressure building in my lungs released with my next breath, and I forced a small smile to my lips. “Because I’m too much fun?”
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